King's Warrior (The Minstrel's Song Book 1)

by Jenelle Leanne Schmidt

  Kamarie nodded, hearing the wisdom in Brant’s words. “I see.”

  When they had finished caring for their horses, the five travelers entered Jhens’ home and ate a delicious meal of chicken stew with his family. The three children asked questions endlessly and seemed impressed with what they heard. The others let Brant field the questions, only speaking when they felt that they could do so without revealing their true identities or purpose. After dinner, Jhens invited them to sit with the family around the fire and they accepted, feeling unable to excuse themselves without being rude.

  As they made themselves comfortable in the cozy living room, little Wren climbed up into Brant’s lap. Kamarie watched in amusement as the tiny child curled up and laid her head on Brant’s chest. But then she felt a pain go through her when she glanced up at Brant’s face. There were tears glistening in this warrior’s dark eyes. Kamarie blinked and looked away, trying not to stare. When she returned her gaze once more, the tears were gone, and Kamarie wondered if they had really been there or if it had just been a trick of the light and shadows being cast about the room by the flames in the fireplace.

  By the time they headed out to the barn, Wren had drifted off to sleep on Brant’s lap and both of the young boys were yawning. Jhens invited them to breakfast with his family in the morning, but Brant replied that they had to get an early start in the morning.

  “We are traveling to see family, and they are expecting us before supper,” Brant explained. “Thank you for your hospitality. Ma’am,” he turned to Chara, “the food was worthy of the King’s table!”

  Chara blushed. “It is kind of you to say so.”

  The night was still and quiet as the weary travelers laid out their blankets in the hayloft and drifted off to sleep. Kamarie fell asleep almost immediately and slipped into a dream about home. She was riding Tor through the long grass of the forest in the early morning light. The wind was blowing across her face and whipping through her hair. She reveled in the feeling of traveling so fast above the ground, almost as if she were flying, and then suddenly she was flying, soaring on the back of a winged horse, high above the ground.

  In an instant, Kamarie was jerked into wakefulness by something. She lay still for a moment, trying to determine what had woken her. It had not been a sound, or any movement she could detect; it was more as though the night had shifted a little, become colder perhaps, or the air had moved slightly. From where she was lying, she darted her eyes back and forth, trying to peer through the darkness. In the pale light of the Toreth coming through a large hole in the roof, she saw something peek up over the top of the ladder that led to the hayloft they were sleeping in. A dark figure climbed up over the top of the ladder and crept towards them. Kamarie remained still, not sure what she should do. Slowly, she slid her right hand across the floor to her sword. She gripped the hilt firmly and waited, every muscle tensed to spring up and challenge the intruder as it approached silently through the hay towards her. Even as her heart was racing and her muscles tightened to jump, Kamarie could not help but admire the silence with which the figure moved. As she tensed to rise, however, Brant silently exploded from his bedroll and ran his sword cleanly through the invader’s chest. The death stroke was so quick that the figure crumpled and fell without a sound. Kamarie clenched her teeth to keep from crying out. She was amazed at how quickly and gracefully Brant had reacted; yet it terrified her as well. The motion had been so fluid, so natural, and so final that it frightened her.

  Brant pulled his sword away, then knelt and wiped it clean. Kamarie silently stood up and joined him. The dead man was lying on the ground, a pool of blood next to him glinted in the light of the Toreth. Kamarie cringed but felt as though she could not look away. The man’s face was angular, and as she looked at him, she could see a hardness in his jaw. His dark hair fell back from his face, but it probably fell into his eyes when he was upright. Kamarie closed her eyes and then opened them again as Brant reached over and touched the invader’s neck. Kamarie shuddered, the matter of fact way Brant was acting about this man he had just killed terrified her more than her would-be attacker had. And seeing him now so very normal, handsome even, had brought her visions of their enemies as dark, faceless figures or monsters creeping towards them with evil intent crashing down around her ears. Their enemies were simply men.

  “He is dead,” Brant said in a low, emotionless voice, without looking at Kamarie.

  “Who is it?” she asked in a hushed whisper.

  “A Dark Warrior.”

  “The same one you were following into the mountains?” Kamarie asked, trying to dispel the darkness of death with normal conversation.

  “I hope so, but there is no way to tell.”

  Oraeyn was suddenly standing next to them. “That was the most amazing thing I ever saw. I barely had enough time to sit up before you jumped up and ran him through like it was nothing. I can’t believe how quickly you moved.”

  Brant put a finger to his lips but it was too late; Yole was suddenly sitting up and rubbing his eyes. “What’s going on?”

  Kamarie looked at him, then glanced at the dead man lying at Brant’s feet and quickly moved so she was sitting between Yole and the figure. She heard Brant and Oraeyn moving the man behind her as she reached over and patted Yole’s head. She felt a need to protect the boy from what had just happened.

  “I woke up because I thought I heard something; Oraeyn and Brant are going to check it out, but it was probably just one of our horses kicking at his stall,” Kamarie said the first thing that came into her head.

  The boy moved away from her and she could just barely see that he was glaring at her in the dimly lit hayloft. Kamarie suddenly realized that he probably took her gesture of patting him on the head as an insult. She pulled her hand away; she had not meant to treat him like a child. She had really been trying to calm herself down more than anything, but she knew Yole would not understand that, especially since she had just lied to him about the Dark Warrior. Yole was not really that young, but he was small for his age and often seemed younger than he was.

  She tried to think of something to say that would be sufficient as an apology for the insult. “I’m sorry, the noise I heard scared me,” she said quietly, trying to explain that it was she who needed comforting.

  Yole was not one to hold a grudge, and he recognized that no offense had been intended; so he grinned quickly and said, “Good-night,” and then lay back down. Within moments his breathing had slowed and deepened and Kamarie knew he was asleep. She went back to her own bedroll, and as she lay down, she suddenly began shaking.

  Kamarie had never seen anyone killed for real. And it had been so fast, so easy. The man had died without even a chance to defend himself. There had been no glory, no honor in what Brant had done. A small thought tugged at the corner of her mind. And what about what the Dark Warrior did? Where was the honor or nobility in what he did? To slaughter an entire village, to kill innocent women and children, to kill Brant’s family, what about that? Kamarie shook her head lost in thought. The Dark Warrior would most certainly have killed them if Brant had not acted as quickly as he had. The man was probably one of those who had showed no mercy to the women and children of Peak’s Shadow, but something still did not seem right deep within Kamarie’s heart. After Brant and Oraeyn returned, with assurances that Jhens and his family were unharmed, she waited for Oraeyn to lie down and then she went over to where Brant was keeping vigil.

  “How could you do that?” she asked quietly.

  Brant patted the hay beside him, inviting her to sit down and join him. Kamarie sat, drawing her knees up under her chin and wrapping her arms around her legs. She shivered, and Brant wrapped his cloak around her shoulders. They sat together quietly for a moment.

  At length, Kamarie began to speak, “I mean, how could you kill someone without allowing them the chance to defend themselves? Where is the honor in that? Where is the glory in catching someone unawares and killing
them without giving him a fair chance? He was so young... I thought... I didn’t realize...” She stopped and looked up at Brant, the tears in her eyes expressing all the fear, doubt, and questions she could not verbalize.

  Brant looked at her sadly and shook his head. “There is no honor in that,” he said softly, and his dark eyes were haunted. “There was no honor in the way that my family and friends were slaughtered either, they too were not given a chance to defend themselves. That is how war is, though. There is very little fair play in a war, there is only doing what you must do to keep the ones you love safe. It is true; there was no honor, no glory, and no nobility in what I did. But I did what I had to do to keep all of us safe, I killed a man so he would not kill us. Perhaps you are right and there is no honor in that, but it is what had to be done.”

  “I see.” Kamarie sighed. “It’s not the way they make it sound, is it? I mean in the stories and songs.”

  Brant shook his head. “Not really, no.”

  They sat in silence together for a while longer. As they stared out at the night, Kamarie felt their relationship change. Over the past few hours, Brant had become a little more like family and a little less of a stranger. He was still mysterious and she still had dozens of questions that she would have liked to ask him, but she began to think that perhaps her questions didn’t matter as much as she had thought. It was enough that Brant was himself and that she was learning to trust him. As she returned to her bedroll to try to get a little more sleep before dawn, Kamarie felt safer than she had in weeks.

  The next morning, Darby woke them all with a smile and a pleasant “good-morning” that none of them really appreciated except for Yole.

  “Sure she’s bright and chipper this morning, she wasn’t awake for last night’s goings on,” Oraeyn grumbled quietly to Kamarie.

  Kamarie smiled a little and said in a light tone, “Somehow I’m beginning to think that it would not have made a difference.”

  Oraeyn threw a glance in Darby’s direction and noted the bright smile and the twinkle in the old maid’s eyes and gave a grudging nod. “You’re probably right.”

  Darby was, in fact, aware of what had happened the night before. She had woken up at about the same time as Kamarie and Oraeyn and watched the entire exchange through narrowed eyes. She had known instinctively that her help was not needed, she was confident that Brant had been completely alert since the intruder had first entered the barn. The man was as tense as a coiled spring, and he practically slept with one eye and both ears open. She had listened to Kamarie talking with Yole and had watched when the princess had gone over to talk with Brant. When she had heard the exchange between Brant and Kamarie, she had relaxed, smiled, and returned to her own quiet vigil, sensing her own growing approval of this mysterious and dangerous man. Of course, none of them, not even Brant who noticed everything, were aware of this, and Darby was sure that she liked it that way.

  The five travelers departed early the next morning, eager to put the previous evening’s events behind them. Kamarie left a pile of silver staters and a note on the front stoop, thanking Jhens and Chara for their hospitality and kindness, freely given. She had wanted to leave more, as she certainly had a good amount of money stashed in her saddlebags, but she also knew that leaving too much could be like leaving a burning arrow in the ground pointing out the way they had gone to their enemies.

  As the five travelers got back on the road, they soon found that their spirits were light and their hearts were less heavy. The new dawn and the welcome light of the Dragon’s Eye brought new hope with it, and for a while at least, their mission seemed less daunting.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  Calyssia knew that travelers were headed towards the Pearl Cove. She always knew when people were coming, and she knew their purpose. It had always been that way. It was how she had set up the Cove over two hundred years ago. The shield warned her in advance.

  The Pearl Cove was her home, her domain, and she liked it that way. It also had to remain that way. She had only set foot outside the Cove once in nearly seventy years. The shield of illusion and perpetual storm depended on her presence. The occasional traveler made it through, seeking glory, fame, or safety but no one could find or enter her domain without her permission. However, now events were unfolding, leaving her uncertain about the future.

  These travelers were different. They were not coming for glory or for safety; they were coming for some other purpose. They were seeking her, and specifically they were seeking information only she could provide. She did not know who they were, she never knew that, but she did know that these who sought her were unique.

  She also understood that a darkness was coming to Aom-igh and that it was threatening to sweep over the whole land with death and destruction. When it came, it would likely destroy her as well. She was tired, too tired, already. She would not be able to hold it at bay. Granted, she would be able to defend against it for a while but, in the end, she too would be defeated.

  Understanding this, she also knew that the coming strangers could possibly alter this course. They heralded a chance for the land, but they also signaled an end to her domain. She waited for them expectantly, but she also feared their arrival. There were five of them, and they were near. She dreaded their arrival as it portended the destruction of her beloved Pearl Cove, but she would welcome them as their arrival could save all of Aom-igh.

  ❖ ❖ ❖

  The five traveled for some time across the plains, and then the Mountains of Dusk once again surrounded them. Brant explained that they were crossing the mountains at their narrowest point and that this was the only easy pass they would find through the mountains.

  “The only other path through the mountains that is this short,” he continued to say, “is where the river winds through them in the east. But that path is neither easy nor is it safe. And it is on the wrong side of the country as well, since it leads into the Harshlands.”

  Traveling along the path Brant showed them was more like walking on the floor of a ravine with two great rock walls rising up on either side of them. The height of the walls and the steepness of them made Kamarie dizzy when she looked up, and it was hard not to look up. The walls on either side of them were breathtaking and awe-inspiring, and she could not pull her eyes from them.

  “Who is this friend of yours that lives in the Pearl Cove?” Kamarie asked for lack of anything else to say and to keep her eyes away from the towering cliffs.

  Brant smiled a bit and said in a mysterious tone of voice, “You might say that she is the Keeper.”

  “The keeper of what?” Oraeyn asked curiously.

  “The Keeper of the Cove.”

  “And that, once again, tells us exactly nothing,” Kamarie whispered to Oraeyn, throwing a look of annoyance at Brant.

  Oraeyn could not help it, he laughed. His laugh was contagious and Kamarie started laughing, and then Yole began to laugh as well, even though he did not have any idea what the joke was. Brant glanced back at them with a puzzled look on his face, which only made them laugh harder. The tensions of the past days drifted away on the lazy breeze as the travelers began to talk and joke and laugh together. The day of traveling passed so quickly that when Brant stopped they were all surprised. They had made it through the mountain pass, and there was a forest before them. The travelers exchanged excited smiles; it was so refreshing to see green grass and growth around them after the long journey through the rough-hewn mountain pass.

  “We will make camp here tonight,” Brant said. “And tomorrow, you will meet the Keeper of the Cove.”

  Kamarie was curious to find out who this Keeper of the Cove was. Brant obviously knew her, but he was not telling them any more than usual. Kamarie had grown up hearing awful tales about Pearl Cove. Most people avoided even talking about this place, and here she was, actually seeking it out. She drifted off to sleep, after sharing thoughts of the Cove with her guardian. Kamarie felt anticipation and dread, but Darby spoke of
the Cove in an oddly unbridled excitement.

  On their way the next morning, before the Dragon’s Eye had completely risen over the horizon, Kamarie was reminded of all the times she had snuck out at first light to ride Tor and work with Garen for her secret squire lessons. Though she had only left home a few weeks ago to travel to Peak’s Shadow, Kamarie felt as though remembering those times were as shadows of a half-forgotten dream.

  They rode into the forest, and everyone but Brant stopped short in surprise. What had appeared as a large and ominous wood the night before was only a shallow line of trees. Immediately before them now was a tempest. It was a very odd experience, standing next to a grove of trees with the Dragon’s Eye beating down on their heads and warming them while there was a furious storm raging just ahead. No more than thirty paces away the sky was black and full of dark angry thunderheads. There was a roaring, howling wind bending trees to the ground. Relentless, blinding rain crashed down from the sky as waves from the ocean crashed against a mountain wall. Lightning blasts streaked continuously across the dark sky, followed faithfully by thunderclaps that shook the ground. To call the storm simply “beautiful” or “terrifying” would not have done it justice.

  Yole shivered and a moan escaped his lips, but it was lost in the spectacle. The power of the storm held them. Finally, Brant spoke, breaking the spell.

  “That is where we are headed.”

  Oraeyn shook himself and found that he had been gripping the hilt of his sword so tightly that it was making his hand ache. He glanced back at Kamarie, but it was Darby who caught his attention. The look on her face was almost transforming. For a moment she was sitting straighter and looked taller. There was a smile on her face that made her appear far younger than usual. Her graying hair, which was normally pulled tightly back in a bun, was blowing around her in waves of golden brown.